


The Time Apart

by musiquetta



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Reality - Soulmates, Community: trope_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiquetta/pseuds/musiquetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their 18th birthday, Tommy and Billy await their markings – the first sentence their soulmate says to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time Apart

**Author's Note:**

> For [nicgrayson](nicgrayson.tumblr.com.). Thanks for the prompt!

His own marking is remarkably not about him. Not that he cares, really, what did he care about some random stranger who was supposedly his soulmate?

He cares about people he knew, like Kate, and Teddy – and Billy, of course, his twin brother, once removed by rebirth, or whatever. He still wasn't really buying that elaborate conspiracy Billy had made up.

The very brother who spent their eighteenth birthday pacing up and down, worrying that the words appearing on his skin would not be whatever sappy meet-cute romance shit Teddy had first said to him.

The thought had crossed his mind, of course, that maybe Billy could be his soulmate. It wasn't too far off, was it? Billy keeps insisting they're soul twins – not much of a stretch to imagine that they're actually soulmates, too.

On the heels of that thought arrived the image of Billy's disappointed face, however, and wouldn't that just suck all joy out of the proof that Tommy actually belonged here.

So, Tommy went back to teasing Billy about the lines he was treading into the carpet, getting so caught up in it that he hardly noticed the tingling in his leg as careful script wrapped itself around his thigh.

(So screw you, Kaplan, he'd been right about being the older one.)

He's still scratching his thigh, and the realization hasn't hit yet, when he sees Billy tense and slap a hand over his wrist, panic creeping into his features.

Tommy rolls his eyes, makes a disgusted noise.

“Put us all out of our misery and look.“ he says, “Of course it's him.”

The next thing Tommy hears of his brother is a gasp and the drum of footsteps and then he's alone in Billy's room.

“Crisis averted.” he thinks. “Cool.”

It's much later that day, after an evening of watching movies and making a point out of poking the bliss that seemed to radiate the lucky couple, that Tommy makes the connection between the itching skin at his thigh and the mark.

Some acrobatics are involved in reading words on his own thigh, but then he can – and frowns.

_'You're that speed guy, right?'_

That was accurate, certainly. And he's certainly heard it before, but maybe not in these exact words. Or has he?

He groans and flops back onto the bed in the room he shares with Teddy.

Did other people just walk around memorizing every first sentence some stranger said to them? What if he's met that person ages ago and just doesn't remember? What if they never meet again? What if they do and don't recognize each other, ever?

Who the hell thought this system was a good idea, anyway?

Either way, it's not Kate, or Eli and it's definitely not Billy or Teddy or anyone else he gives a crap about, so.

He leaves the Kaplan's place soon after and it's easy to let go, or so he tells himself.

And for once, Billy knew to shut up, when Tommy rattled off his speech about seeing the world and new faces, though they both knew he could do that and still be home in time for dinner.

Or lunch, really. He was that fast.

And meet new people he did, all day, every day, in every club he could smuggle himself into – which was all of them, fyi.

He never heard The Words, as he mentally referred to that blasted sentence.

“Aww, Tommy.” Kate croons on a sweltering afternoon on a California beach. “You will find love, you beautiful spinster.”

“Eat dirt, Bishop.” he says, laughing, kicking the leg of Kate's chair. The rickety thing collapses, sending Kate sprawling onto the hot sand.

Kate laughs, too, and Tommy thinks that visiting Kate may have been the best decision he's made in a long time – Kate with her non-romantic soulmate relationship and her wisdom beyond her years.

“Anyway, it's not even about that.” Tommy says, after Kate finished her struggle with the chair, once again seated on the most hideous flower pattern Tommy has seen in a long time.

“Yeah, I get it.” Kate says, putting on her sunglasses as the sun sinks towards the Ocean. “But really, soulmates are not all good, you know.”

“Speaking of.” Tommy says, grinning. “How's your worse half?”

Kate growls, glaring at him over the dark rim of her glasses. “I'd kick _your_ chair but I just got a pedicure. And he's still a pitiful caricature of a functioning human being, thanks for asking.”

Since they’re both miserable, they decide to spend the night in a club – which is so much better, Tommy notices, when he’s not alone.

They dance and Kate makes out with a guy and so does Tommy and then they’re watching the sunset and take a nap at the beach.

When Tommy comes home, he’s in a good place, he really is.

About five minutes later, the walls are closing in on him and in a fit of cabin fever he does something he was going to avoid until he's like, thirty or something.

He gets a job.

It's not even that bad. Sure, it's boring as hell, and way too easy, and leaves him alone with his thoughts about 8 hours too long every day, but he's got actual money and since he can't have the superheroing, it's like the second best thing.

(No, it's not, not by a long shot. But, as Mrs. Kaplan always says, attitude is half of everything.)

But nothing short of the world ending would get Billy back into the spandex, he thinks bitterly as he drags himself into the company one morning, prepared to do the same old, same old – when he spots someone new in the break room.

That in itself wasn’t too surprising, since Tommy was rarely ever here when he could avoid it and also he didn’t care much. This one was different, though.

“Hey,” he says. “you look at least ten years less boring than everyone else.”

The guy turns and he's wearing orange-tinted glasses, behind which his eyes widen almost comically. 'Probably thinks I'm some weirdo', Tommy thinks, but hey, they're working in a superhero temp agency, get over yourself, dude.

“Let's go grab some noodles.” Tommy continues, unfazed.

Ten-years-less-boring opens his mouth, then closes it again. Something like a smile flits over his lips – gorgeous, kissable lips, Tommy's brain helpfully supplies, but really, say something, dude.

“You're that speed guy, right?” the guy finally says and – oh.

For Tommy, time always moves slowly but this? This was glacial. Peripherally, Tommy hears his boss yelling something at both of them as they're still awkwardly half-smiling, half-gaping at each other.

“So about those noodles.” the guy finally says.

“Give me five minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Been a while since I wrote these dorks. Really missed it, too.
> 
> Find me [here](cptcarol.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
